


The Eternally Optimistic Chett Chetterfield

by sanidine



Category: Southpaw Regional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/F, F/M, KFC, Past Relationship(s), Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-16 06:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11823243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanidine/pseuds/sanidine
Summary: “Susan!” Chett overbalanced backward and sat down hard in the wet grass outside of the farmhouse that he had once shared with his beloved. “Susan!”





	The Eternally Optimistic Chett Chetterfield

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mithen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/gifts).



> Extreme Deadline '17 treat for Mithen, whose letter suggested "Southpaw Regional Wrestling: Anything. ANYTHING. I mean, have fun, there is so much to play with! I want to know more about [...] Chett Chetterly's sad love life."
> 
> I wrote this before I knew there were going to be new Southpaw episodes! I haven't had the chance to watch them yet, so idk if anything here has been wildly jossed

“Hey, aren't you Chett Chetterfield?”

Chett took his time screwing the lid back on his flask. It kept getting cross threaded, stuck, and finally Chett just gave up and stuffed it back into the pocket of his blazer. It was empty anyways. He sighed, turned one bleary, unfocused eye to see who had addressed him.

“Depends. Who's asking?”

Chett’s eyes finally focused enough to show him a woman who was a vision come to life in the KFC. With teased auburn hair and a velour lavender track suit, holding a Bargain Bucket of the Colonel’s famous recipe, she stared down at him with shimmering green eyes.

“Me? My name is Cynthia.”

“Well then, Cynthia.” Chett reached up and readjusted his combover before he held out his hand. “Chett Chetterfield, at your service.”

Chett had, in the past five seconds, imagined the next ten years that he would spend with this woman. It would end with her leaving him in Corpus Christi as she sailed away on the yacht of her new lover, of course, but those ten years that he would have with her were going to be great. And it would all start now, when she put her hand in his.

But instead of her hand, Chett found himself holding a white envelope.

“And I'm a process server for Mobile County. Have a great day.”

It took Chett a minute to process what had happened, and when he had finally wrapped his mind around it Cynthia had left. Chett stumbled to his feet, ran out the door after her.

“Cynthia!” He shouted “Wait!”

“Sir, I just deliver the papers. If you have any questions about your summons you need to contact the court.” She sat down into her car and slammed the door, locked it immediately, but the window was open a couple of inches.

“No. Wait! I was just wondering. Do you want to maybe go get a drink?” Chett pleaded through the gap in the glass. “Get to know each other a little better?”

Cynthia glared at him. Chett’s heart soared, a seagull in flight, until she laid on the horn. The squall of it pierced through his pickled brain and he stumbled back a step with his hands covering his ears. It didn't do much at all to block the noise, so Chett heard it perfectly when she yelled at him.

“Back off asshole!”

Then she took her hand off the horn and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving Chett behind in a cloud of burning rubber and the fragments of his dreams.

\----

“I loved her.” Chett Chetterfield had the heel of his hand pressed against his forehead, eyes closed as he swayed back and forth to the Bonnie Tyler tune that filtered out of the bar’s tinny speakers. “Susan was my soulmate. She was my everything.”

The members of the Southpaw Regional roster weren't on good enough terms with one another to spend time together outside of taping and events, but Chett could always count on finding some other poor unfortunate soul to commiserate with when he washed up at the bar in Rusty’s Pool Hall.

“Susan and I were so in love. We were going to sell the farm and raise sled dogs together in Alaska.” Chett felt the tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “And then she left me for the gardener.”

Chett tilted his head to the side. Cracked open his wet eyes. Sea Monster stared back at him.

Sea Monster’s facial expressions were unreadable. Or perhaps they were just entirely unfathomable to any who had not spend time among the creatures of the briny deep. But Chett felt in his heart that Sea Monster understood him.

“You're right. Sea Monster, you always give the best advice.” Chett slapped the sticky bar, stood up off the stool, almost over. “I _should_ go tell her how I feel!”

\----

“Susan!” Chett overbalanced backward and sat down hard in the wet grass outside of the farmhouse that he had once shared with his beloved. “Susan!”

There were figures moving inside the house - Chett could see their shadows through the curtains. Susan hadn't been returning any if his phone calls, so her phone must have been broken. But she would have to hear him now. If only he could figure out what words to say.

“I need you now, Susan... Tonight! I need you more than ever...”

The porch light flipped on. Chett struggled to his feet and stumbled towards it.

“Susan, listen to me. If you'd only hold me tight...” The board of the stairs creaked under Chett’s feet, and he had to stop and brace himself on the railing to keep from tumbling down on his face. “We could be holding on forever, Susan. Forever. And we’ll only be making it righ-”

The front door of the house swung open. But instead of Susan rushing into his arms the way that Chett had hoped, he was greeted by the sight of the gardener.

“Go home, Chett.” Deborah was holding a shotgun in the crook of her arm. “Get the hell out of here before we call the cops.”

“Don't do this to me Deborah.” Chett fell to his knees on the stairs, then laid down to stretch on the porch.  

“You did this to yourself.” Deborah sighed, lowered the shotgun and squinted out into the darkness as she looked back and forth across the yard. “How did you even get out here? Actually, you know what, nevermind. I don't want to know. I'll call someone to come take you home.”

Chett couldn't quite manage the coordination necessary to wipe his eyes. So instead he stared up at the night sky like he was looking up from the bottom of a pool and listened as Deborah left him there and went back inside, locked the door behind herself.

Chett couldn’t quite manage to move just yet, so he stayed where he was spread out on the porch listening to the crickets chirping in the darkness and then the soft clucking of chickens as the first pale rays of the sun snuck over the horizon.

They had never had animals on the farm, him and Susan. Susan had talked about it, once or twice. Maybe a few times. Chett had always thought that it was a joke. Then again, he had also thought that Susan had been joking when she had told him that she was kicking him out and leaving him for the gardener. In hindsight, humor had never been Susan’s forte. But Chett still loved her anyways.

It felt like Chett laid there for a long time. He may have slept, but he wasn't sure. If he had then he wasn't sure what was real or what was a dream. Maybe he had seen A cluster of shooting stars streak across the sky. Maybe he had made a coherent, passionate speech and finally gotten back together with Susan.

Chett couldn't be sure, so he definitely couldn't rule it out. He would have to call her later to be sure.

There was a distant noise of tires, crunching on gravel, growing louder. Closer. Chett’s head spun as he sat up, and through his carnival-ride view of the world he saw the square headlights of Lance’s unfortunately familiar Ford Pinto heading his way.


End file.
